I am sitting in the kitchen when
the past blusters in, invades
the present as it often does,
sending dishes crashing against walls,
causing the lights to fail.
I’m dizzy in the dark, stumble, fall,
crawl toward what I remember is the door,
only to find a solid wall. Holding on,
I stand, bump against
a dish which falls sending
shards across the room.
I feel my way along the wall
to the switch box in the back hall,
get the lights back on
then walk the house;
and, seeing the past
peering through the kitchen window,
I close the blinds.

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